


Beautiful Things and Dangerous Things

by Cinnamongirl



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Anders has self-esteem issues, From Sex to Love, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-DA2, Premature Ejaculation, Rimming, Sex Magic, Zevran has a nice ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamongirl/pseuds/Cinnamongirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran and Anders run into each other after the end of DA2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Things and Dangerous Things

Anders was fucking _exhausted_. His plan to sleep when he was dead hadn't exactly worked out, and he found himself lost, without any kind of goal or direction for the first time in years. 

He had technically fled Kirkwall with Hawke and everyone else, but it was obvious to Anders that he was just in the way. When he saw Hawke standing between Fenris and her sister and talking animatedly to them and actually _smiling_ for maybe the fourth time since he'd met her, Anders decided that she deserved to be happy and that he would not do anything to impede her happiness. He left the group as soon as possible to set out on his own.

He vaguely remembered that he used to be good at running away, once, but he was badly out of practice. Anders found a road and started walking as he tried to figure out a plan. He thought that he should probably try to disguise himself or something. He pulled off his coat, which was probably the most distinctive part of his appearance, and stuffed it into his pack. Anders couldn't stop thinking things like _Where should I go?_ and _What should I do?_ but he forced himself to just keep walking. 

Eventually, night fell. Anders was weighing the risks of using magic to light his way, when he noticed a faint light in the distance. Anders followed the road toward it. It took longer to reach it than he'd anticipated, but he eventually realized that the light was coming from an inn. _Inns have beds and food_ , he thought. Anders couldn't remember the last time he ate, which was probably an indication that food would be good right now. Come to think of it, that might be part of the reason why he was so exhausted.

The inside of the inn was dark and sketchy-looking, which was perfect. Anders was undoubtably the most-wanted person in there, but at least he wouldn't stand out as much in a room full of fugitives who were all attempting to hide in the shadows.

Anders inquired at the bar, and found out that all of the rooms were full because of the sudden influx of people fleeing Kirkwall. The bartender cheerfully pointed out that he was still welcome to eat, however. Anders decided that he might as well.

He sat down at a small table (in low light and next to a wall, because the corners were taken) with a mug of ale and a bowl of something that he could only identify as soup. Anders managed to eat half of the soup before he realized how terrible it was. He found that he still couldn't make himself drink more than a few sips of the ale. Not that there was any reason for that to have changed, actually, and it was probably just because of the taste.

Anders was scowling at his drink, which he would insist was his excuse for not noticing the figure walking toward him. He was at least proud of himself for not jumping when he glanced up and realized that there was someone sitting across the table from him and watching him with raised eyebrows, as if they'd been waiting for him to notice. 

He looked closer and realized that it was Isabela's friend, the assassin with the tattoos. He remembered that Hawke had done some kind of favor for Zevran that involved killing a lot of people (Anders's mind was preoccupied elsewhere at the time). Afterward, Zevran and Isabela went off to fuck behind some bushes while Hawke, Anders, and Fenris stood around awkwardly. Zevran had also helped them fight the Knight-Commander, which earned him a lot of respect from Anders. Still, the fact that an assassin was here in front of him could only mean that he'd already been caught. Anders took a deep breath to steady himself for what he knew was coming next.

“Now that you're finished with your dinner, would you like to join me in my room?”

“...what?” Anders was very confused. Did Zevran mean to kill him upstairs in one of the rooms? It seemed more logical to do it outside, where his body wouldn't be found in the room rented by his killer, but it didn't seem appropriate to criticize the way in which he would be assassinated.

The assassin calmly explained, “You don't have anywhere to stay tonight, and I have room in my bed. Only if you're interested of course.” The suggestive expression on Zevran's face confused Anders even more. Was Zevran pretending to seduce Anders in order to lure him somewhere private so that he could kill him? Anders would have gone willingly, but it wasn't exactly his place to complain.

“Er, all right,” Anders said awkwardly.

He followed Zevran upstairs to a room that was equipped with a bed that looked too small to fit both of them, a chest, and overturned crate with two chairs next to it. Zevran closed the door and Anders braced himself, waiting to be stabbed or strangled or whatever Zevran had planned. Now that they were both standing, Anders realized that Zevran was actually very short. Or was it just that he had gotten used to Fenris, who seemed to be particularly tall for an elf?

“So, Isabela mentioned something about electricity?” Zevran asked, with an even more lurid expression on his face.

Anders rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. _Of all the things I could be known for..._ he thought. 

It occurred to him that Isabela might have put Sebastian (or the Chantry, or the Templars, or Kirkwall law enforcement, or the Wardens...) in touch with Zevran and told them which direction Anders went, as long as Zevran agreed to sleep with Anders. Not that Zevran was a prostitute, but he seemed like the type who wouldn't mind having sex for free while he was getting paid to kill people. Anders could easily believe that Isabela would insist that he needed to get laid before he died. Either that, or the sex was entirely Zevran's decision and he was still planning to assassinate Anders afterward. Either way, Isabela's involvement would explain how he had been found so quickly. In that case, he would have to sleep with Zevran, wouldn't he? It wouldn't be right to prevent him from fulfilling the contract. 

Anders was about to respond, when he remembered that Zevran probably didn't know about the spirit possession thing. He hadn't had any kind of sexual contact since becoming possessed, and he wasn't entirely sure what would happen. It wouldn't be right to put Zevran in that situation without warning him first.

“Er, did Isabela tell you about my... circumstances?” He gestured vaguely, unsure how to explain it.

Zevran raised an eyebrow. “She mentioned that you were possessed by a... 'stick in the mud'. Is that what you're referring to?” He said this calmly, as if it were just random trivia. 

Anders was shocked. “And you still want to do this?” he asked. “Do you have a death wish?”

“I haven't in many years.” Zevran looked wistful for a moment, and then smiled. “I've never had an abomination before. Not for lack of trying, of course. I have never been with a darkspawn either, come to think of it, but I imagine that one will be more difficult...”

 _So I'm just a novelty to him_ , Anders thought. Zevran probably didn't even find him attractive. The idea hurt a lot more than he would have expected. 

Anders had never put a lot of thought into what sex would be like as an abomination. It had never occurred to him that anyone would be willing to look past it, and he'd always had more important things to worry about. Would it even be physically possible? It should be, right? Except for the occasional glowing, his body worked the same way it always had. And he'd already agreed to this, hadn't he?

“So... the electricity thing,” Anders blurted out. “It works better without clothing, and make sure to take off anything metal.”

Zevran just grinned and started removing his clothes. He wasn't even trying to be sexy about it, at least not in a blatant way, but Anders couldn't stop staring. Zevran had more tattoos on the rest of his body (and Anders had always had a thing for tattoos), and he bent over to reveal possibly the best ass that Anders had ever seen. It was perfectly shaped; composed of tight, lean muscle covered with beautiful tan skin. 

Fuck, Anders was almost getting poetic about a skinny elf butt. It really HAD been a long time.

“Would you like help undressing?” Zevran asked, once he was nude and Anders was still fully dressed. His tone was carefully neutral, but when Anders finally made himself look at Zevran's face he could see that Zevran looked pleased with himself. To be fair, he had every right to be.

“No, that's all right, I've got it,” Anders stammered. He forced himself to crouch down and start unlacing his boots. When he stood back up, he realized that Zevran was beside him and trying to unlace his pants. Apparently he'd gotten bored waiting, and decided to help anyway. Anders, grateful that he'd already removed his coat, pulled his shirt off over his head. Zevran leaned against him. The feeling of his bare skin was amazing. It was warm and smooth and it made Anders' whole body feel hot and tense.

Zevran made quick work of his pants, and allowed them to drop to the floor so that Anders could step out of them. He made a pleased-sounding noise as he squeezed Anders' cock, which was already harder than it had probably ever been. Anders just moaned weakly. Had that always felt this good? 

He forced himself to focus. The goal here was to impress the assassin who was about to kill him, not to just stand there and receive his first handjob in years. “We should probably do this in bed,” he pointed out.

He managed to avoid making any disappointed noises when Zevran removed his hand and went to lie down in the bed. In addition to being small, it was hard and scratchy and completely luxurious compared to the cots in Darktown. They discovered that they could both fit comfortably in the bed as long as they were spooning, with Zevran's face to the wall and Anders lying on his side behind him. 

In this position, Anders was finally able to get a close-up view of Zevran's hair. He was surprised to find out that it was similar to his, at least superficially. They both had shoulder-length blonde hair that was worn half-up, but that was where the similarities ended. Anders would hack at the ends of his hair with a dull knife whenever it got too long, and pull the top part back with some cord or a strip of cloth or whatever he had laying around so that it would stay out of his eyes. He suddenly felt self-conscious when faced with Zevran's neatly combed hair and complicated little braids. 

The rest of Zevran's body was entirely too distracting to spend much time staring at his hair. Anders reached a hand around to run his fingers lightly over Zevran's chest. He decided to do something a bit fancier than what he had done with Isabela, because he might as well show off a little before dying.

Anders made his fingers spark as he continued to move them up and down across Zevran's stomach. The electricity wasn't very strong; just enough to cause a tingling sensation on the surface of the skin. Once the novelty of that wore off, he started controlling the spots of electricity with his mind and moved them up and away from his hand, which moved to stroke Zevran's thigh. He made the electricity dance around on Zevran's back and tickle his face, being careful not to increase the intensity or go too deep into his body. 

Anders was making this all look effortless, but it was actually very difficult and required a great deal of control, which was something Anders had a lot of practice with. A mage can focus on power or control, but not on both at the same time. Most magic--especially offensive magic--requires a great deal of power in order to be effective, but healing is different. The most powerful healing spell won't do any good if it isn't directed at exactly the right injured area. 

Despite his former reputation for hedonism, Anders had always been good at precisely controlling his magic. Over the past several years, he'd been forced to develop high levels of self-control in order to avoid turning into a raging abomination, or at least make it happen as infrequently as possible. It seemed appropriate that he would use his finely-honed skills to show off for the person who was about to kill him, who was actually surprisingly trusting of Anders at this moment. If it required Anders to ignore the fact that there was a very attractive naked body next to him in order to concentrate on sex magic, well, that also seemed appropriate somehow.

Zevran seemed to like the feeling of the sparks on his lips, so Anders kept some of the electricity there and moved the rest to his fingers. He was using them to pinch Zevran's nipples when Zevran suddenly pressed his (perfect and amazing and wonderful) ass back into Anders' groin.

Anders swore loudly and jerked his body backward, almost falling off the bed. “What the fuck?!” he yelled. “Do you not realize how close I was to your heart? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Zevran just glanced over his shoulder with a very confused expression.

Anders immediately felt guilty. Zevran wasn't a mage; he couldn't be expected to know the details of what Anders had been doing. It was probably a bad idea to put him at risk in the first place. He took a deep breath. “Sorry I yelled at you. The magic I was doing... it's essentially very weak lightning. It can be dangerous if I'm not careful.”

“And I was too distracting?” Zevran asked with a smirk. 

Anders nodded, a little embarrassed. “Do you want me to continue, or do something else or...?”

“Ah, by all means continue,” Zevran said. “I suppose I must lie still, then. I wouldn't want to distract you any more.” He looked incredibly smug. 

Anders tried not to roll his eyes. He decided to stop teasing, and moved his hand directly to Zevran's cock. He gave an approving hum, but dutifully did not move his body at all. Anders called the electricity back into his hand and let it dance over Zevran's skin as he squeezed. He stroked up and down somewhat, but he mostly let the sparks do the work while his hand applied pressure. It didn't take long before Zevran's abdomen and thighs started tensing, but he continued to lie perfectly still until he made a moaning noise in the back of his throat and spilled over Anders' hand. 

Anders extinguished the lightning quickly. He finally allowed himself to relax, and realized that he was actually very aroused, to the point where his body was trembling slightly. 

It felt like he was drowning in it, almost choking, so overwhelmed with desire for this merciful, beautiful man that he could barely articulate what he wanted. Anders just knew that he needed to touch him everywhere and hold onto him and never let go. 

Zevran, in all his glorious kindness, rolled them over so that Anders was on his back and Zevran was poised above him. He slid a muscular thigh between Anders' legs and brushed against his groin lightly and Anders immediately came all over himself. It would have been humiliating if it wasn't so cathartic. He vaguely thought _What was that about control, again?_ and laughed softly before falling asleep.

* * *

He woke up very slowly. There were flashes of sensation; the feel of the mattress and the blanket and, through everything else, his head pounding. Anders must have drifted in and out of sleep several times before he realized that he wasn't in Darktown. He suddenly remembered everything that had happened and sat up, which made his head hurt even more.

"Unnnnggghh..." he moaned.

"Hm? Are you all right?"

Anders forced his eyes open and saw Zevran sitting on one of the chairs, fully dressed and slicing an apple with a very sharp knife.

"Yes, it's just my head..."

"You're dehydrated," Zevran said without looking up.

Anders wanted to retort that he ran a medical clinic for years and he knew about dehydration, thank you, he had just been answering Zevran's question. Instead, he made a noncommittal grunting noise.

"Apple?" Zevran held a slice out toward Anders.

Anders blinked, and then shrugged. "Yes, thanks." He took the apple slice and bit into it. It was still crisp. "Wait a minute, where did you get fruit?" 

Zevran only smiled. After a few seconds of silence, he tossed the apple to Anders. "Finish this, if you like. I'll get something to drink and more food. You may wish to wash up," he gestured to a wash basin in the corner, "and there's a chamber pot under the bed." He stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Anders even more confused.

The first thing that Anders realized was that his chest and stomach weren't crusted over and disgusting like they should have been after last night. That was certainly odd. 

Anders started to think about how he had apparently been cleaned up overnight, but then he was distracted by the realization that he wasn't dead. Why didn't Zevran kill him why he was asleep? Anders wondered if maybe Isabela had specified that penetration would have to occur in order for it to count as sex. Did that mean that there would be more sex? Anders could feel his groin tightening at the thought. 

He had time to finish washing and put his clothes back on before Zevran returned. He invited Anders to sit and eat with him. There wasn't any more fruit, but he did have actual clean drinking water and fresh bread and meat. Anders idly wondered where Zevran had found the food. Was there a market around somewhere that had been invisible in the dark? 

“How long was I asleep?” he asked.

Zevran paused for a second and then replied, “about fourteen hours.”

Anders was shocked, even though he didn't know whether the number was too high or too low. Sleeping longer than five hours at a time seemed impossibly luxurious, almost hedonistic, but on the other hand he wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he'd been asleep for months. At least he knew that he was allowed to sleep in now. Granted, the main reasons why he hadn't been able to sleep late in several years (Hawke, Lirene, his patients, the Mage Underground) didn't exactly apply anymore.

They ate in silence after that. Every few minutes, Anders would catch himself staring at Zevran and remembering what he'd looked like when he was naked. He would inevitably blush, which caused Zevran to smirk at him and Anders to blush even harder. Despite the embarrassment and impending assassination, the whole experience was surprisingly nice. Anders couldn't remember the last time when he could just hang out and relax with someone without feeling the weight of responsibilities and at least six different priorities that were all more important than whatever he was doing. 

He realized, to his astonishment, that he didn't want to die anymore. That thought was quickly extinguished when Anders reminded himself that what he wanted wasn't really relevant here. He still deserved to die for what he had done. 

Anders pushed his plate away, suddenly not hungry anymore. He took a deep breath, and hoped that what he was about to ask wouldn't be too impudent. “When are you going to kill me?”

“Sorry?” Zevran asked smoothly.

“I'd thought you would do it after we came upstairs last night, or while I was asleep. Or am I supposed to wait in suspense as some sort of punishment?”

Zevran quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you think I'm going to kill you?”

“You DO know what I did in Kirkwall?” Anders asked softly.

“You are referring to the Chantry exploding, killing hundreds of people including the Grand Cleric? I assume that was your work?” Zevran casually tore off a piece of bread and brought it to his mouth.

Anders only nodded. He didn't regret it—he'd spent years going over every possible option until the Right of Annulment had been sent for and there WERE no other options—but he couldn't _not_ feel shame over the most difficult and painful thing he'd ever done. It was the right thing to do, he was sure of it, but he felt awful. Not guilty, but responsible.

He glanced up at Zevran, who shrugged and said, “I prefer more subtle methods, myself, but I can't argue with the effectiveness.” 

Zevran wasn't judging him? _Right, assassin_. He'd probably killed even more people than Anders had. Anders normally would have been disgusted by this type of moral flexibility, but right now it just felt like a relief.

“So, are you going to kill me or not?”

Zevran just shrugged again. “I wasn't planning to kill you. I think I much prefer you alive. Why do you ask?” 

“Well, there are rather a lot of people who want me dead right now, and assassinating people is sort of your thing, isn't it?”

“I enjoy many 'things', as it were. If you are wondering whether any of those people have hired me to kill you, then no, they have not.”

Anders just stared ahead numbly. He felt like he'd been given yet another chance at life. He would be allowed to live, at least until another assassin found him. It also meant that Zevran apparently had his own reasons for being interested in him, which was a pleasantly surprising thought.

“So!” Zevran said, grinning now, “Now that we've eaten and cleared up the subject of your death, would you care to join me in bed?” 

“Oh! Er, yes, definitely!” said Anders, surprised but already hard again at the suggestion. He stood up and walked around to the other side of the crate, where Zevran was sitting. 

Zevran seemed to be eying Anders' groin with something like pleased amusement, but he also stood, and looked up at him.

Anders cupped Zevran's face in his hand and brushed his thumb across the tattoos, enjoying the slightly raised texture. He leaned down to kiss him. It was a gentle, open-mouthed kiss—there was no need to be aggressive—but it was also undeniably sexual. Zevran made a noise in the back of his throat and leaned in, and Anders was proud and kind of relieved to realize that he still remembered how to do this. After a few seconds of kissing, he pulled away slightly. “Thank you for the food,” he said. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

Zevran responded by grabbing a handful of Anders' shirt and pulling him back down for another kiss. This one was was aggressive, and so skillful that it made Anders' knees weak. He held onto Zevran's shoulders for support while trying not to rut shamelessly against his stomach.

He was pulled forward by his shirt until they were next to the bed, and then pulled down on top of Zevran. Anders lost all hope of coherent thought when Zevran's legs wrapped around him. 

There were only flashes of awareness after that. 

They both shoved their pants down, not bothering to remove any other clothes. Zevran produced some kind of oil from somewhere and smoothed it over Anders' cock before positioning him at the entrance of his ass, which felt even better inside than it looked, and Anders actually managed to go all the way in before coming even harder than he had yesterday. 

At this point, it wasn't even surprising (but no less embarrassing) The orgasm felt like it was going to go on forever but the wonderful, pulsing sensation eventually stopped (and he was starting to go soft anyway) so he reluctantly pulled out and tried to figure out the best way to get Zevran off.

Anders had gotten several nights worth of sleep, so at least he was wide awake this time. He was pleased to learn that he hadn't forgotten how to swallow a man all the way down to the hilt, which made Zevran moan happily. He tried to remember the fancy things that he used to do with his tongue and experimented with various techniques to find out what Zevran liked. Eventually, however, Zevran just grabbed a hold of Anders' ponytail and started thrusting upward. He gave a warning that he was about to come, but when Anders only responded by sucking harder he bit his lip and grasped the bedspread with his free hand and spilled down Anders' throat.

* * *

The next time, Zevran was on top. It had been so long that Anders didn't even realize how much he missed being fucked up the ass until it was actually happening and he wondered why he had waited so long. He'd apparently grown very tight over the years, and a lot of lubricant and even more patience was required to the point where Zevran seemed skeptical that Anders had ever actually done this before. Ultimately, though, it was a very enjoyable experience and Anders even managed to last a reasonable amount of time. He still finished first, but it wasn't nearly as embarrassing.

Things almost seemed to settle into a routine after that, except that Anders had no way of keeping track of time. He knew that he was still sleeping a lot. It was easy to fall asleep with Zevran in his arms. He was usually alone in the bed when he woke, but there was always water to wash up with and food to eat. Eventually, he stopped expecting to wake up in his clinic, and it wasn't a surprise anymore to see the small room with four walls and no windows. 

Zevran was almost always there too, with his hands and mouth and his cock and his glorious ass that Anders tried to worship as much as he was allowed. The situation had seemed too good to believe at first, and as time went on it became increasingly surreal. Anders was sure that it had to be real, however, because no other explanation made sense. He was pretty confident that he wasn't in the Fade or dead. It all seemed too realistic to be the work of a demon, and a demon would have asked him for something already. He even tried thinking _Go ahead and try to possess me. It'll be funny!_ as loudly as he could. Nothing happened.

* * *

The next time they were awake and not actively engaged in fucking, Anders tried to strike up a conversation. “So, Zevran-” he started.

“Please, call me Zev.”

“Right, Zev. I heard that you traveled with the Hero of Ferelden?”

“Ah, yes.” He smiled. “She was an extraordinary person. She saved my life, actually.”

“She saved me too,” Anders said wistfully. 

“What else did you hear about me?" Zevran asked. "Nice things, I hope?”

“She said that you kept flirting with her. Apparently, she tried to subtly explain that she doesn't even like men, but you wouldn't get the hint until she just bluntly told you no. You left her alone after that, though. Something about how you're shameless, but you respect boundaries.”

“Mmm, that does sound like me,” Zevran laughed.

“There was a whole group of you, traveling and camping together for a year? I can't imagine that.”

“It wasn't so bad, but then I suppose I have grown accustomed to unusual living situations.”

“And you all managed to not kill each other? All of us who followed Hawke around could only work together for so long before we had to go our separate ways for a few years, and we didn't even live together.”

“Well,” Zevran said, “there was a templar and a hedge-witch who didn't get along very well...”

Anders shuddered. “An actual templar? I can't imagine how difficult that must have been.”

Zevran only shrugged back at him.

The sex, at least, was varied enough that it never settled into any kind of routine. Anders' body seemed to have finally adjusted to the fact that it was getting some, because he was actually able to last for a respectable length of time before coming. This worked nicely for a day or two (even though it could have been a month; it was difficult to keep track of time), until Zevran apparently decided that he didn't want Anders to have too much dignity. Whenever Anders was getting close to finishing (and Zevran could always tell), he would start reciting an increasingly-graphic litany of all the things that he wanted Anders to do to him; perfectly-chosen phrases in a sinful accent that made Anders' skin feel hot until the right words shattered his control and forced him to collapse against Zevran, gasping as he cursed both of them.

Anders got revenge by tying Zevran to the bed and using icy fingers to tweak his nipples until he was hard and shuddering. He teased Zevran and made him curse in Antivan when Anders played with his ears, and he refused to let him come until he had sufficiently begged for it. It had been intended as a punishment, anyway, but neither of them seemed convinced afterward that Zevran had suitably learned his lesson.

* * *

The next opportunity for a proper conversation came while Anders was sitting in one of the chairs and Zevran was sprawled out on the bed.

“Could I ask you something, Zev?” he began, not sure how to bring up a topic that had been nagging him recently.

“Certainly.” He raised an eyebrow.

“You said that Isabela told you about me...”

“Yes,” Zevran said simply.

“She was talking about me while she was fucking you?” (Because both of them knew that Isabela was always the one doing the fucking, regardless of her partner.)

Zevran laughed. “Ah, no. That was afterward, while we were at the Hanged Man.”

At Anders' confused look, he continued. “I stayed with Isabela. You never saw me?”

Anders just shook his head. He leaned back tentatively, trying to see if his very old and creaky chair could handle it.

“I saw you now and then, when you came in with the Champion.”

“I had other things on my mind at the time,” Anders said drily, even though he felt a little embarrassed. “You never left Kirkwall? I suppose that would explain why you were there to help us fight the Knight-Commander.”

Zevran looked amused. He lifted his arms above his head and stretched distractingly.

“You were sleeping with Isabela for...” he leaned back farther as he tried to calculate in his head, “about a month?”

“That sounds about right. There was also this rather large Qunari fellow who was there too...” Zevran smirked at the memory. “Why do you ask?”

Anders had to jerk upright in order to avoid losing his balance. “Hold on, you fucked a Qunari?”

Zevran pursed his lips. “Now that I mention it, I believe he said that he was technically Tal-Vashoth.”

Anders wasn't even sure how to respond, so he changed the subject. “So, this is what you do?” he asked, gesturing vaguely to the room around him. “You hang out in taverns and have lots of sex?”

“Whenever possible,” Zevran replied with another smirk.

“You aren't too busy assassinating people?”

“The life of a vigilante is not easy, but I find that it allows me to set my own schedule.”

Anders was pretty sure that his eyes couldn't get any wider, but they seemed to be trying anyway. Clearly, Zevran's life was a lot more complicated (and a lot more interesting) than he'd ever imagined. “Vigilante? I thought Isabela said you were an assassin.”

“Her information is several years out of date,” Zevran said as he sat up in the bed. “I was a Crow for my entire adult life, and most of my childhood. It was all I knew, and all I thought I could ever be until I met the Warden. I'd never been a part of something _good_ like helping to end a Blight before. After it was over, I found myself back in Antiva but I was a different person... I couldn't just go back to my old life.”

Anders nodded thoughtfully.

“The Crows need to change, this is not in question. Two of the seven Guildmasters agree with me on this. One of the other ones disagreed quite strongly, but he met a quick end.” He said this calmly, but seriously. “I travel in Antiva and the surrounding areas to find my former brothers and sisters who have been wronged, and then I find those responsible. On occasion the Crows will find me, but that never goes well for them.”

Anders nodded again, remembering Nuncio. “Then you're a fugitive like I am?”

“You could say that.” Zevran remained silent and uncharacteristically serious, so Anders dropped the subject and joined him in bed. 

It wasn't anything fancy or elaborate this time. Anders lay on his back while Zevran crouched over him. They kissed, and started rubbing and pulling on their own cocks and each others', and Zevran pinched Anders' nipples while they jerked each other off. 

Afterward, Zevran managed to grab a cloth, clean both of them off, and throw it across the room without getting up. He apparently decided to take advantage of his position, and the fact that Anders was still awake, and started massaging Anders' front. It was amazing, quite easily the best massage that Anders had ever had. By the time he had flipped over so that Zevran could work on his back, Anders was willing to admit to himself (and almost willing to admit out loud) that, even without magic, Zevran was better at giving massages than he was.

* * *

Now that Anders was spending more time awake, he couldn't ignore the bored and vaguely irritated feeling that had been forming in the back of his head. He was spending too much time on sleeping and sex, with occasional breaks to eat or wash up or use the privy. It felt lazy and wrong. He kept thinking that he really should be working on something important, or at least something useful.

He also started to wonder about Zevran, and what his motives were. How long had they been at the inn, and how long did he play to stay here? Would he expect repayment at some point? Was Anders allowed to leave? And if he did leave, where would he even go? On the other hand, it was still true that Anders should be dead right now. Wasn't he just being ridiculous and selfish to question the mercy he'd been shown? Anders paced back and forth, waiting for Zevran to return from wherever it was that he went.

When he finally did return, Anders realized that he had no idea how to react. He felt like he should confront Zevran, or question him, or something. It occurred to him that he should have come up with a speech, or maybe a list of questions to ask, but it was too late now. All of the tension and discomfort had built up with nowhere to put it and he ended up staring with his brow furrowed and his mouth half-open until Zevran said “You need to relax” and pulled Anders down for a kiss.

Grabbing at Zevran while attempting to devour him actually turned out to be a great outlet for everything that Anders had been feeling. It also didn't hurt that any aggression on his part just seemed to make Zevran moan and rut against his hip. 

It wasn't until much, much later, as Zevran was sitting on his face and Anders was trying to use his tongue to convey the worship and adoration that his ass truly deserved, when it occurred to him that this situation was truly bizarre (even by his standards). Still, Zevran wasn't done yet, and he couldn't bear to move his face away before he absolutely had to.

Eventually, when they were finished (again) and Zevran was cuddling up next to him, Anders finally asked “What even is this?”

“The thing I was doing with my feet? I can teach you if you like.”

“No--Wait, can you? That was amazing--but I actually meant, what are we doing here? Why are you doing all of this? Not the sex, the... everything,” he finished weakly.

Zevran shrugged as best as he could while lying down. “I had a room, and you needed somewhere to stay and recover.”

“Oh.” It sounded so simple when he said it like that. 

Zevran was frowning. “Would you like to go for a walk?”

Anders stopped himself from asking if that was even allowed and just said “Really?”

Zevran shrugged again. “You have been saying odd things in your sleep. Spending all your time in this room is obviously getting to you.”

“So just... leave? Like that?”

“I recommend bathing first, and maybe even getting dressed, but the choice is entirely up to you, my friend.”

“Er. All right.”

They washed themselves and Anders put on his old clothes, minus the coat. Zevran produced a cloak and offered it to him. It wasn't thick enough to offer much protection against cold, but it obscured Anders' face well. He realized that he would probably have to wear cloaks like this every time he was out in public for the rest of his life. 

He followed Zevran out of the room, and then out of the tavern altogether. Judging from the position of the sun, it looked like it was late afternoon. The wind was cold enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to actually hurt. Anders pulled the cloak tighter around his body. 

They walked down the road, in the opposite direction from Kirkwall. The world looked more or less the same as it always had, but it was different, somehow. It was almost as if his life had been re-set while he was in the room with Zevran and his memories from before belonged to someone else. _No, I shouldn't think like that_. Anders reminded himself. _I've got enough identity issues already without trying to get rid of what is actually mine._

“Are you all right?” Zevran asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hm? I suppose so.”

“I've been worried about you.”

“Why?” Anders asked, genuinely confused. 

“I remember how exhausted and malnourished you were when I met you last week. Your health seems better now, but you look so serious.”

“I suppose I've had a lot on my mind,” Anders said, trying to figure out how to explain. “Wait, what do you mean, 'last week'? How long have we been here?”

“It has been...” Zevran paused to count on his fingers, “nine days. I've paid for the room through the end of this week.” He turned his head to try to peer at Anders' face inside the hood of his cloak.

Anders couldn't believe it. Had it really only been nine days? Apparently, he hadn't been spending as much time asleep as he'd thought. Anders suddenly remembered all the sex that they had been having. “We've been busy,” he said.

Zevran only chuckled.

“I mean, I'm a Warden, but what's your excuse?”

“Do I need one? Surely, one as handsome and enthusiastic as yourself would inspire anyone to push the limits of their stamina.”

Anders felt himself blush, and was grateful that it wasn't visible. He thought that he should at least try to answer Zevran's question; it seemed only fair. “I suppose that I HAVE been serious. I can't stay here and fuck you forever, as nice as that sounds, but I don't know what else to do.” He looked around to make sure that no one was within earshot, and then lowered his voice anyway. “I've used up any good favor I had with Hawke and I doubt the refugee mages want to be seen anywhere near me.”

“You could always follow me,” Zevran said simply.

Anders started to laugh, before he realized that Zevran sounded like he was being serious. “And do what, help you kill corrupt Guildmasters?”

“Why not? We obviously enjoy each others' company, and we could fight well together. You freeze people, then I stab them- it sounds good, no?”

“Well...” Anders paused to think about it. “Righting wrongs and killing people are apparently my favorite things...”

He continued to think as they walked back to the tavern. It was odd to think about avenging assassins instead of mages, but hadn't he just been saying that he would be unwelcome among mages, at least for the foreseeable future? He'd been offered a chance to travel around Thedas with a trained killer who knew what Anders had done and accepted him. Anders felt a twinge of guilt at the idea of bringing the wrath of the Templars (and the Chantry, and Kirkwall, etc) anywhere near Zevran, but he reminded himself that this was a man who had spent years evading highly-skilled people who were after him. Zevran was clearly very good at being a fugitive, and at defending himself. If they decided to part ways at some point, Anders would still have managed to get farther away from Kirkwall. And, if Zevran ever turned against him, it would still be more merciful Anders deserved.

“All right,” Anders finally said. “I'll come with you.”

Zevran smiled. “Ah! Excellent choice.” His smile softened into something that looked no less happy, but more tender. “I look forward to traveling with you.”

# Epilogue

### (Some time in the future)

They had made camp in the middle of nowhere and were about to turn in for the night when Zevran started rummaging around in his pack. “I wanted to give you something,” he said. He looked weirdly nervous, which made Anders feel kind of nervous.

“Oh?” Anders asked, trying to lighten the mood. “I remember how The Warden-Commander used to give me random little gifts all the time.”

“She did that to you, too? Ah, here it is.” Zevran stuck out his palm, which was holding something small and jeweled.

“An earring?”

"I obtained this during my first assignment with the Crows and I've kept it ever since. I wanted you to have it.” He looked at Anders intently, even though his own expression was unreadable. 

“Oh, thank you!” said Anders, sensing that there was some kind of significance here that he was missing. It was a thoughtful gift, regardless. “You know, I used to wear one of these all the time, but I stopped when I came to Kirkwall. The hole's probably closed up by now.” He gestured toward his left earlobe.

“Well, there's only one way to find out,” Zevran replied. “May I?”

Anders nodded. Zevran unhooked the earring. Anders could feel nimble hands lining it up with the hole and pushing the post through. It hurt, but not as much as he'd thought it would. For some reason this felt more intimate than anything else they had done together. 

Zevran stepped back to admire his work. He looked... hopeful? Maybe even excited? “There! And it's not even bleeding! It suits you.”

“Yes,” said Anders. “I think it does.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been getting a lot of kudos lately (February 2018) and while I'm definitely happy that people are enjoying my crack-pairing story from three years ago, it's kind of confusing. Is Zevranders trendy now? Was this linked somewhere? Are you guys reading my current WIPs and then clicking through to see what else I wrote? In any case, thank you for reading! <3


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